Brown liquor stain on the carpet

Shaped like a rabbit’s foot

And my feet are cold

Under the covers.

And when nobody’s home,

As drink gives way to drink,

The light of my table lamp

Throws itself at the cool glass in my hand

And wets my fingers.

The blanket falls down my back.

The fan spins and I watch it.

Alone.

And you are not here with me

And I love it.

Because if you were

To rudely walk in through the door

And look at me.

You would take a glass from the cabinet and you would drink

And then you would leave the glass on the counter.

And then you might take a napkin to dry your mouth 

And then you might rest your hand with the napkin on the counter

And then you might just pick up your hand and leave the napkin there. 

But you aren’t here.

And the counter is clean and pretty

As am I,

Not through your eyes, but rather through 

Mine.

When I walk back up the stairs,

I get back into bed

To press myself hard against my soft blue blanket

To really feel it on my skin.

And nobody it there to watch,

Until now,

I’ve just ruined it.